Truth matters. You wouldn’t know that from watching the president address Congress earlier this month. The assault on truth since January has been breathtaking. The removal of data from government websites, the elevation of science deniers to positions in charge of scientific policy, and the advancement of health policy that flies in the face of scientific evidence are only the tip of the iceberg. We are watching a disaster in the making: Our leaders are all falling in line with a program that prioritizes politics and power over American success. But, we ignore the truth at our own peril—reality has a way of getting our attention even if we look the other way.
As a philosophy professor, my discipline’s attention to truth has never seemed more relevant than today. Although, there may be disagreement about the ultimate nature of truth, even the most minimal theory agrees that truth requires alignment with the way the world is. It is neither negotiable nor unimportant. Devaluing the importance of truth is a fool’s game, and it is incompatible with American success. It makes us weak and vulnerable; epidemics, deaths, and unrest will follow.
What has made us so successful? Some point to our democratic system of government and the freedom that it has sustained. Some will pick out the scientific and technological advances that form the backbone of our economy, advances that have ranged from cures for diseases to the development of the automobile, the internet, and artificial intelligence. Also important is the elevation of the individual, and the individual rights enshrined in our constitution. And then there is our educational system, the envy of the world, at least until now. At the root of all that is best about America is a core value—truth.
A functioning system of democracy requires trust: If those in power do not speak the truth there is no basis for trust, and if there is no basis for trust, we abdicate the ground for our freedom. People must trust that their votes will count, that their officials will perform their duties in the service of their nation and not for personal gain, and that the system of checks and balances will not be subverted. Indeed, our freedom is shored up by free speech laws that ensure transparency. As the visual metaphor suggests, transparency allows us to see the truth. The same can be said for a capitalist economy: once trust is lost in the system, once graft becomes rampant, and once the currency cannot be trusted to hold its value, the system collapses.
Science is the search for the truth about the natural world, and its success is predicated on following the facts where they lead. Not all truths are convenient, and some are downright frightening, but scientific facts cannot be massaged or legislated for our own purposes. It is only by recognizing the facts for what they are that we can make intelligent decisions about how to move forward, that we can build buildings that do not crumble, and medicines that work. Lying about the facts or erasing knowledge undermines science and our success.
The foundations of morality, whether religious or secular, also posit truth as a central value. The Ten Commandments clearly enjoin truth-telling: “Thou shalt not bear false witness against your neighbor.”
Rewriting history to mark Ukraine as the aggressor in the war that Russia instigated should be called out for what it is: a blatant example of bearing false witness, and on this view, a sin against God. But even those whose moral foundations are secular, recognize the centrality of truth to morality. For example, the development of moral character, the bedrock of Virtue Ethics, requires the consistent and deliberate exercise of truthful behavior until truth-telling becomes part of one’s moral fiber.
As Americans, we teach our children not to lie and tell them the story of George Washington and the cherry tree. Although apocryphal, the story illustrates the strong link between strength of character, commitment to truth, and American patriotism.
That’s ridiculous! You might say—isn’t truth a cudgel that the powerful wield to cement their interests?
This thinking might be where our present leaders go wrong, but to do so is to misunderstand the nature of truth, which depends on the way the world is, not what someone wants or asserts it to be. Truth is not opinion, nor is it mysterious or elusive. At its base is the simple notion of correspondence to the facts, and those facts can be empirically established and will exert their influence despite our wishes.
To be sure, sometimes the facts are complicated, and discerning them requires the expertise developed with training, which is why our educational system is fundamental to our success, and why scientific hypotheses are discussed in terms of degrees of certainty. But we should all be very clear: To assert falsehoods is to undermine all we stand for. To try to blur the lines between truth and lying is a common move in a fascist playbook. These exercises of power may often seem inconsequential, but make no mistake: they are aimed at destroying our values and ultimately our democracy.
Truth lies at the foundation of what has made America great, and every assault on truth eats away at that foundation. It is incumbent on all of us to stand up and decry every lie, to call out every act of censorship, to demand transparency, and to demand integrity from those who represent us. Once you give up on truth, you have given up on democracy.
A golden tray sits on the Resolute Desk as President Donald Trump speaks during an announcement on American nuclear innovation in the Oval Office at the White House on July 24, 2026, in Washington, D.C. Trump is signing multiple executive orders targeting the nuclear energy sector and easing rules for new reactors and nuclear fuel supply chains.
Trump’s hubris rivals the fallen heroes of ancient Greek mythology
In January, the New York Times asked President Donald Trump if there were any limits on his global powers.
“Yeah,” the president responded, “there is one thing. My own morality. My own mind. It’s the only thing that can stop me.”
That was eight months ago, but fortunately Christopher Nolan’s blockbuster adaptation of “The Odyssey” has made ancient Greek literature newly relevant. Before that window closes, I’d like to talk about hubris.
Today, the term mostly means excessive pride or arrogance. That’s part of what the Greeks meant by it too, but the meaning was a bit richer and more specific. Hubris was an insolent or outrageous act that offended the gods, often because the transgressor was claiming abilities or authorities that solely belonged to supreme beings.
Nolan renamed and slightly modified the concept of xenia for the film, calling it “Zeus’ law.” In the director’s telling, mortals should follow the rules laid out by the gods, specifically the requirement to treat strangers with respect lest they be gods in disguise.
In a sense, hubris is the opposite, or at least the rejection, of xenia. The hubris of the suitors, and at times Odysseus himself, invites punishment by the gods and their mortal instruments.
Which brings me back to Donald Trump. His claim that there are no constraints on his personal power to dictate events on the global stage was one of the greatest expressions of hubris ever uttered by a political leader.
Trump’s claim was obviously false when he made it.
He vowed that he could end the Russia-Ukraine war in 24 hours. He’s proved powerless to make that happen. If he had divine powers to work his will, why would he have balked at implementing his tariffs so often that Wall Street adopted the “TACO trade” term for his deals? “TACO” stands for “Trump always chickens out.”
And why would Trump have made so many embarrassing concessions to China — from rescinding tariffs on Chinese goods to allowing them to buy crucial and incredibly valuable computer chips?
But Trump saw his success at capturing Venezuelan strongman Nicolas Maduro as proof of his ability to launch missiles to the same effect as Zeus’ lightning bolts. Trump believed he was the most powerful man who ever lived.
This is no exaggeration. In March, when the Iran invasion seemed successful, Trump gave a document penned by“Presidential Historian David King” to New York Times reporters Maggie Haberman and Jonathan Swan purporting to prove that Trump was “the most powerful person to have EVER walked this planet.” King was, in fact, a businessman and occasional caddy for legendary golfer Gary Player.
King compared Trump favorably to many of history’s most powerful, and often heinous, figures: Alexander the Great, Attila the Hun, William the Conqueror, Napoleon Bonaparte, Joseph Stalin, Genghis Khan, Mao Tse Tung, Adolf Hitler and Vladimir Lenin. Many of these men thought they were the most powerful person in the world, too. And many were defeated precisely because they believed it.
At least Napoleon and Hitler had a string of truly impressive victories before they learned the folly of hubris. The limits on Trump’s power have been exposed by far less august forces than the combined might of the allies in World War II or the fearsome Russian winter.
Iran is a comparatively middling power. But the regime’s ability to absorb punishment while imposing its will on the Strait of Hormuz has proved to be a greater constraint on Trump’s power than his morality or mind. We should note that, at least rhetorically, his morality has not proved much of a constraint. He has repeatedly promised to destroy Iranian “civilization” if the regime refuses to capitulate.
But they haven’t — and won’t anytime soon — because the regime’s tolerance for pain far outstrips Trump’s. The combined fear of skyrocketing oil prices, outrage of Gulf state potentates, diminishing weapon supplies and domestic unpopularity is doing the work that international law, congressional oversight and the collective opinion of foreign policy experts can’t or won’t do.
If I considered Trump more heroic than reason and facts could allow, I would say his Sisyphean predicament has the whiff of Greek tragedy to it. Trump is vexed by the fact that the Iranians won’t honor deals or ratify his countless premature claims of victory — giving new meaning to his vow that his presidency would make people tired of winning. It’s almost like they’re out-Trumping Trump.
Things might have gone better if he’d heeded that great Greek tragedian Sophocles: “For Zeus utterly abhors the boasts of a proud tongue.”
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Jonah Goldberg is editor-in-chief of The Dispatch and the host of The Remnant podcast. His Twitter handle is @JonahDispatch.